


Shopping Centres and Wimbledon Tennis Players

by Goldy



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 02:09:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldy/pseuds/Goldy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shopping trips are a bad time to run into good looking tennis players you have a history with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shopping Centres and Wimbledon Tennis Players

**Title** : Shopping Centres and Wimbledon Tennis Players  
 **Pairing** : Ten II/Rose  
 **Summary** : Shopping trips are a bad time to run into good looking tennis players you have a history with.  
 **Rating** : PG  
 **Word Count** : 3, 100  
 **A/N** : For [](http://mrv3000.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mrv3000.livejournal.com/)**mrv3000** who wanted protective!Ten. Obviously jealous and insecure Ten is almost the same thing.  
 **Excerpt** : _He sensed Rose shooting him an odd look, but he kept his gaze on Sven, hoping to intimidate the other man with his steely Time Lord glare. That glare had always worked on Mickey. Unfortunately, it had no effect on Sven. Possibly that was due to the fact that Sven could likely crush most other living beings with his thumbnail._

Thanks to [](http://shinyopals.livejournal.com/profile)[**shinyopals**](http://shinyopals.livejournal.com/) for the beta job!

The Doctor could think of more dignified ways of spending a Sunday afternoon than stuck in a crowded shopping centre, elbowing other patrons out of the way as he and Rose tried to leave the food court.

“Why’re we here again?” he asked as soon as they had a small modicum of personal space again.

Rose sent him a fond smile, sipping at a milkshake she held between both hands. “‘Cos you need a tux.”

“Ah. Right.” He paused. “And why do I need a tux?”

“Mum’s hosting a Vitex charity function next weekend and we haven’t got a TARDIS in this world to make one for you?”

He sighed. “We’ve really got to build another TARDIS.”

“Come on,” Rose said, reaching for his hand. “It can’t be all bad. Didn’t Donna love shopping?”

“Yeah, Donna did,” he admitted, “but the metacrisis didn’t work like that. It’s not like I woke up with half her personality.”

“I heard you and Mum discussing the latest issue of _Cosmo_ just the other day.”

“It didn’t work like that for everything,” the Doctor modified, eager to change the subject. “Weren’t we trying to buy a tux?”

“We were,” Rose said. She gazed at him sideways, the quirk in her mouth indicating that she liked what she saw. “You know, you’re quite... dashing in a tux.”

“ _Really_?” he said. Suddenly tux shopping seemed new and interesting. “D’you think?”

Rose opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, a heavily accented voice called, “Rose? Rose Tyler?”

Rose’s eyes lit up and she looked around, gaze falling on a tall, blonde man fighting his way through the crowd towards them. “Sven?” Rose called.

“Rose—Rose Tyler, good, good!” the man said, emerging from the crowd. “It really is you.”

“Oh my god,” Rose said. She dropped the Doctor’s hand and thrust her milkshake at him. Blinking, the Doctor took the milkshake container and Rose bounded over to the blonde stranger, throwing her arms around him.

Sven was several inches taller than the Doctor and about a hundred pounds heavier in a pure muscle. He easily lifted Rose off her feet, wide arms encircling her waist.

Finally, he set her down and swept his gave over her. “You look... fantastic.”

The Doctor’s eyes were glued to where Sven’s arms were still wrapped around Rose’s waist. Rose, apparently, was too busy beaming at him to notice. “You too!” she said breathlessly. “Blimey, you haven’t changed at all.”

Gritting his teeth, the Doctor forced his way over to them. “Hello!” he said, moving as close to Rose as he could without touching Sven. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Sven’s beaming gaze dampened. He addressed Rose. “He’s with you?”

“Yeah,” Rose said, with a quick smile in the Doctor’s direction.

“Ah, well, I knew it was too good to be true when I saw you.” He finally released Rose and then reached out to shake the Doctor’s hand. “Sven.”

“John Smith,” said the Doctor, forcing a smile. “Um, if you don’t mind my asking—how exactly do you two know each other?”

Rose shifted uncomfortably, but Sven’s smile was smug. “We used to... how do you say it in English? We dated.”

“Oh?” said the Doctor mildly. “Did you? How long ago was that now?”

“I think...” Sven scrunched up his face as he thought. “The last time was almost two years now. What do you think, Rose?”

“The _last_ time?” the Doctor said. “What does that mean, ‘the last time?’ The last time of _what_?”

Rose reached for the Doctor’s hand, fingers squeezing his reassuringly. She took a breath and then turned to face him, speaking quickly like she was embarrassed, “Sven is from Sweden—he’s one of Europe’s top tennis players. A few summers ago, Mum had these front row seats to the finals. Sven got knocked out in the semis and was sitting right next to us. We sort of... got talking.”

“ _Talking_?” the Doctor said. His eyes cut over to Sven dismissively. “About _what_?”

“I never did manage to make it to the finals at Wimbledon,” Sven said thoughtfully like the Doctor hadn’t said anything. He winked at Rose. “All these distractions in Great Britain.”

“What?” the Doctor said again. His eyes jumped from Sven and back to Rose. _Oh_. They’d met up every year to... _oh_.

“Maybe this... John Smith of yours is a sign that I’ve got a chance this year,” Sven continued. He rolled his head and shook out his arms, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Um...” the Doctor said, gesturing vaguely with the milkshake. “The match hasn’t started yet.”

“Always be prepared,” said Sven. He clapped the Doctor on the back with enough force that the Doctor almost pitched head-first into Rose’s milkshake. “That’s my... what do you call it? Motto. Yes.”

“It’s a... great motto,” Rose said, and with some relief the Doctor could tell that she was putting it on.

“You’ll be at the game, of course, Rose?” said Sven, who had to bend down to look into Rose’s eyes. “It would mean a lot.”

Rose shot the Doctor a questioning look and he shrugged, idly taking a sip of her milkshake. Blech. Strawberry.

“I’d like to, yeah,” Rose finally said, “but it sort of depends on work. It’s hard to predict these things.”

“Alien invasions don’t exactly take a holiday for tennis matches,” the Doctor interjected. “In _fact_ , there’s one species in particular that’s drawn to yellow tennis balls. It can watch them for hours—back and forth over the net, again and again—and then when you least expect it, BAM. It eats both players.”

Sven stared at him blankly and Rose shook her head forcefully in his direction. Then, releasing the Doctor’s hand, she rested her hand on one of Sven’s overly large biceps, leaning in to say, “He’s joking.”

Sven still looked baffled, but he managed a bark of laughter and clapped the Doctor on the back again. The Doctor winced as he pitched forward. “He’s funny, this man of yours,” he said to Rose. “But if you find things don’t work out...”

“Oh, no chance of that happening,” said the Doctor. He threw an arm around Rose’s shoulders and tucked her into his side. “We’re very in love. _Very_.”

He sensed Rose shooting him an odd look, but he kept his gaze on Sven, hoping to intimidate the other man with his steely Time Lord glare. That glare had always worked on Mickey.

Unfortunately, it had no effect on Sven. Possibly that was due to the fact that Sven could likely crush most other living beings with his thumbnail.

“Well,” said Sven. “It was wonderful running into you, Rose. And you, John Smith.” Sven didn’t look like he thought it was wonderful. “I had better head back to the tennis court. That American has been practicing all day.”

“Bye,” said Rose. She elbowed the Doctor in the side rather painfully and he released her. She wrapped her arms around Sven in another hug.

“Call me,” Sven said quietly, but loudly enough so that the Doctor could hear. He resumed his steely Time Lord glare, idly wishing there really _was_ an alien species that preyed on tennis players.

Rose laughed good-naturedly, and only said, “Good luck out there.”

Sven released her and then winked at the Doctor before pulling out a huge pair of sunglasses. “Best to stay hidden,” he said by way of explanation. “Nice meeting you, John Smith.”

“And you,” the Doctor grit out. Rose took his hand again, waving goodbye to Sven.

Out of the corner of her mouth, she said, “Aliens drawn to tennis balls?”

“Made it up,” the Doctor admitted. “Though it is a parallel world. How should I know?” He waited until he was sure Sven was out of earshot and then he spun around. “What on _Earth_ did you see on him?”

Rose’s good humour faded. “It was years ago. We’d been separated from ages.”

“But...” he gestured at her with the milkshake container. “You were building the dimensional cannon—you said you were trying to find a way back!”

“I was!” Rose said, looking a little shocked that he would question that. “But that took _years_ and even then there was no guarantee it would even work. I was... lonely and I didn’t have many people in my life aside from Mum and Mickey, and it was just nice to be wanted for once. It’s not like Sven spent years pretending he wasn’t attracted to me—he knew what he wanted and went after it, and... I liked it.”

A small voice in his head said now would be a good time to drop the subject and get on with the shopping, but it was drowned out by a much louder voice. “Oh, lovely, thanks,” he said. “I didn’t realize this was about how quickly it took to get to the shagging.”

Rose dropped his hand and backed up, staring at him like she barely knew him. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then _why_?” he exploded. “He can barely hold a conversation. He’s got no intellect and he doesn’t even know you work for Torchwood.”

Rose looked a little shocked by his outburst. “I don’t know... he was just there, and he...” she trailed off, biting her lip like she wasn’t sure how much to tell him. Finally, she waved at him. “I liked him ‘cos he wasn’t like you. D’you have any idea how hard it was to think about you _all the time_? Sometimes I had to stop.” She paused and then added, almost defiantly, “And yeah, Doctor, the sex _was_ brilliant, okay? It had been a long time for me, and even if you weren’t in another universe, I didn’t know if it was something you even wanted. Is that so wrong?”

“ _Yes_!” he said, the word leaving his mouth before he could stop it.

He knew right away that he said the wrong thing. Rose’s stare hardened, eyebrows drawing in more tightly. “And what about you?” she said coldly. “All that time I was gone, there was never anyone else?”

He pulled at his tie, suddenly feeling hot and uncomfortable.”I didn’t say that...”

“So it’s okay for _you_ to go and shag random strangers, but I should have stayed home and pined for you, is that it?”

“Shagged?” he said. “I didn’t shag anyone!”

Rose sighed and then tugged a few notes out of her purse. She thrust a fistful at him, saying angrily, “Go and buy your tux. I’ll see you at home.”

He took the notes before he was even fully aware of what had happened. By the time her words sunk in, she had her back to him and was halfway down the hall. He was dimly aware that a small crowd had gathered. Several people held up their mobiles to take pictures or even catch the whole thing on video.

The papers were going to have a field day in the morning.

The Doctor hastily tucked the notes into his side pocket and then chased after Rose. He caught up with her just as she was exiting the shopping centre.

“Rose, listen,” he said, tossing the milkshake container in the bin before following her out into the car park, “I didn’t handle that well.”

She snorted, “You think?”

“I shouldn’t have made a scene,” he admitted. “Listen, Rose—it’s all right. Whatever happened with Sven, it’s in the past. I forgive you.”

Rose stopped so suddenly that he almost crashed into her. She spun around. “You _forgive_ me?”

The Doctor swallowed, aware that he’d managed to say the wrong thing yet again. “Um... yes?”

“Unbelievable,” she said. “Mickey was right. You are just like any other bloke.”

“What?” he said. “Mickey said that? When did he say that? And you believe that? Rose—” She was walking away from him again and he rushed to catch up with her. “Rose, come on. Can’t we talk about this?”

“I’d rather be alone right now,” Rose said primly, hefting her chin. She reached the car and pulled open the driver’s door with extra vehemence. “I’ll see you at home, yeah?”

Most of the anger had left her voice, so that she sounded tired and sad. He felt something inside of him tighten. He _hated_ making Rose sad. In those few weeks after his duplicate left them on Bad Wolf Bay, Rose had been quiet and demurred, and so unlike the person he remembered travelling with on the TARDIS. He’d fought a conflicted internal battle between being grateful to his other self and resenting him for abandoning Rose and leaving her so hurt.

“Can’t I come with you?” the Doctor said quietly, meeting her eyes.

Rose hurriedly looked away. Without another word, she climbed into the seat and shut the door. He backed up a few steps as she started the car and pulled away from the curb.

He watched her drive out of the car park, pull into traffic and then fade away before taking out his mobile and calling for a taxi.

****

The flat was dark by the time he got home. He hurriedly kicked off his shoes and looked around. The only light was coming out of the crack under the bedroom door.

His feet padded against the wood floor as he hurried over. He tried the door handle and found it locked. “Rose?” he said, knocking.

There was no response.

He deflated and leaned his forehead against the door, a deep sigh building in his throat. They’d fought before, of course—over dinners at Jackie’s and whether he should work at Torchwood. But usually they were both unwilling to draw an argument out.

She’d certainly never locked him out of the bedroom before.

“Rose,” he said again, rapping his knuckles against the door again. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I’m sorry I hurt you. Thing is, this is all new to me. I know how to show you all of time and space, but this? This... ordinary, human, _brilliant_ relationship? I don’t even know where to _begin_ most of the time. And I know everything.” He paused and swallowed, whispering the next part, “For all I know, I’m complete rubbish at it.”

He heard someone walking across the floor of the room and then the door creaked open, revealing Rose on the other side. She idly chewed her thumbnail, watching him like she was torn between throwing her arms around him and slamming the door in his face.

"Hi," he said shakily. He wasn't sure what else to say. "I... um, I took a taxi home."

Rose's gaze softened as she took him in. "I'm sorry for driving off on you."

"It's all right," he said. "I'm sorry I... I'm sorry."

Rose nodded. "Yeah," she said. Then she took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly around the neck. She pressed her nose against his neck and sniffled. “God, I hate fighting with you.”

“Me, too,” the Doctor mumbled into her hair.

She released him and looked up at him with watery eyes. “Let’s never do that again,” she said with false cheer. Then she sobered. “What was that about, though? It’s like I said, it was a long time ago.”

He gave her a long look. “A _tennis_ player, Rose? Really?”

“Madame de Pompadour?” she shot back.

“Oh, come on,” he said. “You can’t still....”

She looked away. “No, suppose not,” she said. Then she shrugged. “Well, maybe a little.”

“You never said anything.”

“She was dead. You were upset. What was I supposed to say?” she paused. “Besides, it’s not like you were ever keen on discussing what was happening between us back then.”

There was an edge to her voice and the Doctor realized with a sinking feeling that perhaps things weren’t as okay between them as he would like. “I know,” he said with difficulty. “I was... your life seemed so short when I was a Time Lord. Now...” he trailed off. “I love you more than anything.”

Rose wiped at her eyes, brightening at his words. “I know—I _know_ ,” she said. “I don’t even know where this is coming from. It’s so stupid.” She paused to think, before raising her eyes to his. “Listen, I was fond of Sven, and I was lonely, and he was... well, he was a bit fit.”

“Oh, go on, rub it in,” the Doctor said. “Tell me again, how was the sex?”

Rose bit down on her bottom lip and with a teasing smile said, “Not as good as it is with you?”

The Doctor laughed and then hugged her again, gathering her up closely. “Well, he’s just a tennis player,” he said. “I’m a Time Lord.”

“Alien freak,” Rose said fondly, poking him in the side. “And for the record, Doctor? I had a pretty good idea that I wasn’t signing up for candlelit dinners and weekend holidays in France with you. And it was so much better than that.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “But that was a long time ago. Now you’ve just got... me.”

“Blimey, you’re right,” said Rose suddenly. She released him and pressed one hand to her forehead in an exaggerated gesture of dismay. “What have I done? I’ve just realized—I want a tennis player! D’you reckon Sven will have me back?”

He managed a faint laugh and then a nod. He reached for her again, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear before smoothing his hand down her back. He thought about telling her that sometimes he still felt the gnawing sting of rejection on Bad Wolf Bay ( _But he’s not you_ ) and that a small part of him was still waiting for the day when she’d realize he was just a one-hearted copy of the real thing.

He didn’t like thinking about what would happen if his duplicate ever showed up from the other universe with the TARDIS again.

Instead, he pushed his lingering worries away and waggled his eyebrows. “Bet Sven can’t speak five thousand alien languages.”

“Bet he’d pee himself if he ever met a real alien,” Rose said.

“Bet he wouldn’t last five minutes against tennis player eating aliens.”

“ _Made up_ tennis player eating aliens,” Rose reminded him. Then she reached for his jacket, fingers nimbly beginning to undo the buttons. Her fingernails lightly scraped against his chest and he shivered, instinctively closing his eyes. He felt the brush of her lips against his a moment later, her mouth pressing against the corner of his mouth.

“Make up sex time?” she whispered.

“Oh, yes,” he said. "Now _that_ is an excellent way to spend a Sunday afternoon."


End file.
